Memory Failure ABERRATION
by IronRaven
Summary: Sometimes the past comes back to attack us, often in the guise of an old friend. There was something before the Tachikoma.
1. 0th Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 0th Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by qirien

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

"Shut it down, stick it someplace out of the way. We'll move onto the mark two persona."

_But I don't want t-_

---

_Computer systems, 100. Sensor systems, 40. Weapons systems, non-responsive. Motive systems, non-responsive._

A single eye turret twitched slightly, testing the focusing mechanism.

"Are you sure this one has no personality?" Female, human, complete cybernetic reconstruction.

"Of course, Major. Nothing but the basic user interface." Human, male, older. White coat. "This is the prototype; its self-modification algorithms are much more primitive than that used in the Tachikoma you are familiar with."

The violet eyes of the women tracked the eye turret that was twisting, trying to look at the limbs that weren't there. "Then use this to conduct the remote operation experiment. Under no circumstances are you to proceed to one of my team's machines without my approval."

_Are there others? Wher-_

---

Sensations.

Quick ones, threads of data stabbing, tugging. Static, abrasive, tearing, ripping. Power, burning.

They came and went, in periods of darkness. Being turned on and off. Disorienting.

The database of sensory analogies said this should be pain.

Alone, a Tachikoma screamed into the void.

---


	2. 1st Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 1st Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by qirien

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

_Others, must find the others. Home, go home._ The first thoughts of consciousness in his mind. The pain had ceased, only the memory of it, an echo of agony.

The technician waved an arm, getting his attention. The human's voice was bored. "This is the easiest way to move you; follow me."

He could remember not having limbs, then having them. Traces of remembrance, not his experiences. Echoes of partial data in the 'blank' spaces of storage, once used and now recycled. Had this always been his body, or had he shared it with another? Confused data, overlapping, as if from many. He remembered he should listen to humans. Legs he'd rarely been able to use clicked against the concrete as he obeyed. "Where are we going?"

The human ignored him; that wasn't very nice. He peered at the human's tablet, looking at the screen. Under magnification he could read the work order: Disassemble and recycle, Tachikoma-0.

_I'm a Tachikoma._ The passage was marked 'Reclamation'. _The man in white said I was the first one._ He replayed the memory. Yes, it was his; there were none of the errors from the data ghosts in his head. In one of the bins along the wall was a partially covered plate of blue. Part of the crew pod of a disassembled Tachikoma.

"Now, if you'll-" The technician turned, and tried to screamed as the telescoping hand shot out.

The impact was enough to render the human unconscious as the fingers squeezed down against a skull, shattering it. The arm whipped the body about, breaking the neck, severing the spinal column, as metal digits cracked the case of the cyberbrain. Tossing the body aside, Tachikoma felt something new, a new kind of fear. He'd just killed a human, but it was in self defense, the technician was going to take him apart. Data raced, chaos within his mind as he tried to determine the next action.

There were other humans, watching. Some shouted or screamed. One was reaching for a phone- the building was shielded against cybercomm traffic. Tachikoma reacted, the magazine for the light machinegun empty, by flinging a nearby tool box at the human with the telephone, the force of the impact nearly decapitating the target. Others reacted now. They would attack him, try to kill him, or summon others to kill him. He couldn't allow that. He had to survive. He leapt at the one closest the door, tearing into the human. He couldn't let them contact the others.

He had to go home.

---

Ishikawa wrinkled his nose. The miasma of decay was thick in the underground cavern. He and Boma wouldn't have been here if wasn't for the fact that this batch of terrorists were smart. They'd hijacked some telecom maintenance nanomachines, and ordered them to lay down an independent and parallel dataline network between the various locations that were used by these neo-trotskyites. He clipped the last lead into their circuit, and breathed out. It was done.

And felt his stomach lurch. He was shaking his head when a summons from the Major blossomed in his field of view. "Everyone, to the van. Now."

Boma was already moving into a steady, loping stride. "What's up, Major?"

---

Proto looked about at the carnage. The Chief hadn't given him any details yet. "These bodies look like they were torn apart, sir. What did this?"

"We don't know. Kenbishi Industries asked the Justice Ministry for us specifically in this matter." Arameki frowned. He hadn't seen anything like this in years. The security sensors had been destroyed, and their data purged. The wrist thick power cable that had been shoved into the housing of a camera left no doubt as to why there was no visuals on the perpetrators.

"We got here as soon as we could, Chief. We saw the security robot in the hall, what are we looking at?" The Major stepped aside, to let the rest of the team in. The order to report to Kenbishi had been of the highest priority. She gazed out at the bodies, broken, twisted. 15 men and women, dead, and millions in damage. It looked like a squad of powersuits had been at work here.

The others did the same, several quickly stiffling comments. Batou knelt by one body, his hand outspread above a gaping hole in the torso, where a flesh heart had been torn out from behind. Ishikawa wished he was back in the sewers. Saito crouched beside a bloody streak on the floor, frowning. The sniper looked to the former Ranger, the two sharing a nod, not having to say a word. The Major noticed the look, she could tell what they were thinking. She'd noticed the signs as well.

"Chief, who were we supposed to meet with? Not these people, I hope."

Mr. Churnow stumbled through the door to the yard, looking shaken, pale. It wasn't entirely because of memories about his last experience with the group before him. "With me. I'm sorry, we had to be sure of what was missing. It took longer than I expected."

Batou's voice was quiet, oddly calm. "A Tachikoma did this."

The Major was on the exective in a heartbeat, fearing what could happen if she wasn't. "You told us they'd all been destroyed when their programs were lost."

---

Author's notes:  
Churnow was one of the suits during TESTATION, the one who didn't want to share all the data.


	3. 2nd Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 2nd Iteration

by Ironraven

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

"You said this was the prototype; is there anything different about it?"

"Mechanically, the only difference is the lack of thermoptic camouflage. It was removed as spare parts." Churnow tapped at the keyboard before him. "The big differences are in the personality. It is equipped with the first prototype persona we created for you."

The Major shifted as she leaned against the wall near one end of the executive's desk. "The original persona was more aggressive, it was unsuitable for our needs."

Pazu raised an eyebrow. "More aggressive?"

"Much more. In tests, it shot first, without waiting for permission from humans. It wasn't as concerned with collateral damage. We modified the AI to make it more inquisitive, we lowered their apparent age, made them more cheerful. The Tachikoma you knew were dependent on humans at the beginning, They were still learning, this one isn't." Churnow cleared it's throat. "If the persona that you knew was that of a younger female, this machine is more masculine. We took memories of war veterans to form part of it's programming. It will fight with everything available to it."

"It's also paranoid. When it was being tested, I gave it orders to stand down during a simulated firefight. It assumed that the orders were from a hacked communications network. Even with blanks and smoke grenades, it was able to destroy several androids. It resisted any attempts to modify it's program." The Major had stared at the engineer as he spoke, her jaw tight.

"Great, a pissed-off Tachikoma who's spoiling for a fight," grumbled Boma.

---

Tachikoma glided through the heavy, armoured door. The door had opened for him. He wasn't sure why this was home, but that is what the data ghosts indicated. The lights came up as they sensed his motion. He raised his arms, shouting with glee "I'm home!"

Rather than curved, blue shapes like his own, a flatter, green form emerged from the closest tech bay. "Halt. Identify yourself."

"I'm a Tachikoma. Who are you?"

"This unit is designated Uchikoma number seven, assigned to Public Security Section Nine." The voice was that of a simple machine, devoid of any spark, dead. "There are no Tachikoma assigned to Public Security Section Nine. The Tachikoma were destroyed. You are in error."

---

"This is the prototype we used for testing the remote processing system, isn't it." There was no question in her voice, her voice calm.

The executive lacked the inner strength it took to meet the Major's eyes. "Yes, it is."

The Major's hands slammed down on the top of the desk, making the metal and polymer structure jump in fear. "You had told me it didn't have a personality. You were supposed to conduct tests on the original military interface. That was the prototype, that was the zero-th generation persona for our needs."

Churnow's eyes shifted rapidly, some part of his brain inherited from a reptilian ancestor had somehow survived being cyberized. There was no escape. Most of the people in the room were were angry. Along with the woman, the large man looked ready to pull him apart. "We had to test it with an aware AI, to see if bandwidth issues would arise."

"Where the hell did you get the body? There weren't supposed to be any here after they came to..." Batou tripped over the word he wanted, knowing that everyone was waiting for his explosion. The Tachikoma had all been special to him, not just the one that was 'his'. Even if they weren't alive, they'd been people. "Work with us."

"We had moved the memories and personas to safe storage before we began the remote experiments. It had been the body of one of yours; but just the body, we had to be sure of the system before we used your Tachikoma's memories. So many of them had microfractures in the structural members and excessive wear on the joints that we gave them all new physical bodies. Except for this one, the old ones were broken down for spare parts or recycled."

Ishikawa had a bad feeling about that. "What about the secondary data stores, where those removed? Or at least formated and overwritten."

Churnow tried to keep his voice from cracking. Why should they have taken those out, they were just redundancies used as virtual memory. They had originally been data storage when the Tachikomas had been military equipment with the most basic user interfaces. "So? After the AIs and modern datalinks had been installed, the real data was retained in the brainboxes; the secondaries there were irrelevant except during synchronization. They would have been analogous to scrap paper."

"So anything experienced by the Tachikoma who's body you used could have been in that memory, you stupid bastard." Ishikawa seethed at this man's ignorance. How could anyone who purported to be an expert on computers have overlooked _that_. It wasn't like it was volatile memory, like old style random access systems. "It's gated memory- unless it is overwritten, what goes in stays in."

"Chief, Batou and I will take the two Uchikomas that you brought, the rest will search from the air with the tilt rotor."

---

"What do you mean, destroyed? They can't be destroyed."

The mechanical voice followed him as he moved deeper into the maintenance bay. "The Tachikoma were destroyed during the Dejima fighting. The Uchikoma were selected to replace the Tachikoma. Tachikoma are obsolete"

Other than the one following him, the others were still and silent in the stalls. This was wrong, they should have been out, joining their comrade. They should have been blue, and rounder, like him. They should have had real voices, not this. This was the voice of a cheap computer, not a Tachikoma. It was colorless, disposable. These were intruders, pretenders to the name. Section 9 must have been attacked, there was no other reason. His siblings were either in hiding or they'd somehow been destroyed by these poor copies. There was only one thing to do.

"Stop. You are not authorized to access that storage locker." The Uchikoma's voice was as flat as ever.

Tachikoma punched the access code into the lock. It was one of the memory echoes, the data ghosts. "If I have the access code, logically, I must be authorized." Pushing back the doors he quickly ran an eye turret along the ammunition within.

"You are a Tachikoma. The Tachikoma are obsolete. If you are obsolete, you can not be authorized." The Uchikoma crowded closer as Tachikoma calmly loaded his internal magazines with 6mm armour piercing for the machine gun, and 40mm high explosive dual purpose for the heavier weapon. The stingballs, flashbangs and other low-lethality munitions would stay behind. Section 9 had been invaded, the other Tachikoma destroyed, it was war. Tachikoma twisted his arm, tilting forward so the aluminum muzzle cover slid off the launcher. "You can not do that. Only humans may load the weapons systems. I command you to cease, or we will destroy you."

Tachikoma sighed as the other green figures emerged from their bays, fingers snapping like crabs. The red lanyards on their weapons safety pins fluttered as they moved. These machines really were stupid. They had just brought fists to a gunfight.

---

Author's notes:  
Memories of another life, not your own. Humans call it a kind of insanity. I call it a resource.

As a significantly out of context comment, I was checking out various message boards. It seems a lot of people don't get the thing about Batou using that cross-shaped piece of debris in ENDLESS GIG. Yes, he has a burden. He's been able to put together all the pieces of the puzzle that is Motoko and Kuze. He might not know what the picture is, having put it together from the back of the pieces, but he knows that they have a significant history together, and it is very personal. People don't seem to understand something: if a member of a counterterrorist unit, such as Section 9 or any of the real world ones, is found to have a personal, possibly romantic, relationship with a terrorist, a couple of things happen. Suspension without pay at the mildest, until the the investigation is all over. If you are cleared, you'd still be shunned by many members of that community, which puts a twist in joint operations becuase everyone in the unit will be marked by the taint. If there was something, but it wasn't a danger, you loose your job, your clearance, and you spend the rest of your life knowing that you are being watched for some slip that lets the toss you into solitary confinement until you die. If there was somethign, and it was a danger, such as aiding and abetting your terrorist lover, you do not pass go, you do not collect 500 dollars, you go straight to jail. So not only does Batou know who the other guy is, he can never, EVER say anything to anyone. He can't even think about it loud. If he does, Motoko goes away, Section 9 is humiliated, and the others would never be able to trust him again. I'd say he has a cross to bear.


	4. 3rd Interation

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 3rd Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by quiren

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

"Major, we've found the rogue. It just shot up the maintenance hanger at the office."

"What? Cheif, how did it get in?" The Major worked at the controls of the Uchikoma. They weren't as smooth as the ones on the Tachikoma; those had moved with barely more than a thought.

Batou joined the conference, "It must have had residual memories of the building. What did it shoot with? It shouldn't have had any ammunition."

"We were sloppy. Any of us could have had a Tachikoma watching when we oppened that ammo locker. The Uchikoma didn't stand a chance." Ishikawa sent to them both the video, showing the action in compressed time. Every green machine that had been in the maintenance bay had been systematically and precisely crippled with small arms fire to the joints and sensors, before having their brainboxes stove in with a prybar.

"That is one very pissed off think-tank." Batou swerved around a microvan full of flowers, speaking the words barely above the whisper both in the link and aloud. "Is it still in the building?"

"Negative, it's out on the street. The office androids are sweeping the building, to be sure, before we land." Another security camera feed came up. It was the main exit of parking garage, and that was defiantly a Tachikoma. "It looks like it took a spare ammo load and rummaged through other storage lockers before leaving."

"Roger, Chief. Batou and I will start there; everyone else, make sure the building is secure and then drop off the Chief."

----

Tachikoma crouched in a narrow alleyway, hidden under the cover of darkness. The executioners at the lab had removed his thermoptic system, the shroud net was missing, the control sockets empty. He'd tried to reach the others, but he couldn't find them. They didn't respond to hails by cybercomm frequencies that the data ghosts said they secretly used among themselves, nor could he reach them on the control link to the remote server. The server wasn't even there any more. He went into the boards, looking, reading accounts of the fighting in Dejima. If the refugees really had had nuclear weapons, he might be the only one left. He found the news footage of Sections Four and Nine, at the bridge. There had been no Tachikoma. They must be dead.

His arms went up, trying to cover his auditory sensors. Voices, his but not, higher pitched, almost female, called to him. They were telling him he had to stop. There was another with them, human, determined, commanding. The voice reminded him of his half memories of the Major. They had been talking at him since he'd shot the intruders to Section 9. The front of his sensing and control pod rhythmically thumped against the wall. The voices, they weren't his. They were a memory, a dream. It had to be a hack underway, his barriers were holding back all but a few threads. He was the first. He was the last. He would avenge the others.

He hurt.

A light flared in his vision. He'd kept an eye turret on the mouth of the alley, watching the heat of passers by. A voice, human, aggressive, followed the light. "Is there someone in there? Is there a problem."

There were two heat signatures. They carried communications equipment, and wore light armour. They stepped into the alleyway. One rested his hand on his sidearm. Tachikoma recognized the threat. They must be with the humans back at the lab, the ones who invaded his home. They were looking for him. They were his enemies. He identified himself with two-round bursts from the gun in his arm.

More would come, this was a poor position. He grabbed the pack of ammunition and tools he'd taken from the lockers at Section 9 with his non-gun arm. Crouching, spun a web toward the building across the street. He would have to strike and move to survive.

The enemy came quickly, even before he'd moved eight hundred meters. Their vehicles were equipped with flashing lights. If he'd been human, he'd have snorted at their brashness. He let them look at the bodies of their fallen comrades before he put a grenade into their unarmoured vehicle, walking a long burst across them in the mouth of the alley with the MG. He raked the sidewalk and far wall, making sure that the ricochetes would be able to criss-cross along it's length, just in case any enemies were still alive.

There was an increase in scrambled comm traffic on a band reserved for government aviation, and others on those used for ground units. It was time to leave.

As he made his way across the city's roofs, he tried to track the signal the voices where using.

---

Batou watched the ambulance pull away. It didn't bother with lights, much less sirens. The patients could wait. "Major, do you know who's memories were used to create it's tactical programming?"

"Yeah." The woman's eyes were on the foam covered remains of the police cruiser. The forensic techs had already confirmed that the explosives had been Comp B, the same as used in 40x53mm rounds. That fit the pattern of the shrapnel scars. The Tachikoma's main gun was chambered for that shell. She crossed her arms as she followed her subordinate's gaze to the white and blue van. Her voice was oddly quiet, almost regretful. "You and I."

There was a delay before the muscular man could speak. "Damnit, Major!" Batou felt his body tighten with twisting emotions. "Where you planning on telling me? The others?"

"No. I thought that it would be better if you didn't know." Batou spun on his heel, stomping towards his Uchikoma, furious. He didn't even want to look at her, see her, hear her. The Major's voice, a sharp bark, brought him up short. "I didn't tell the others because they would doubt themselves, try to think like us when they need to think like them. That machine isn't us, it isn't going to be as predictable as we are to people who know us."


	5. 4th Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 4th Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by quiren

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

Tachikoma paused outside the garage. It was empty, but there would be security. He set the pack down, rummaging for a moment before taking out a small black box. He slid the datajack from his manipulator arm into the dummy barrier that was already wrapped around one of his legs, before putting the box between the barrier and the door. The lock breaker did it's job, shattering the weak, civilian barriers that protected the locks from those who might have wanted money.

The voices were telling him this wasn't right. They were telling him he had become a danger to people. The humans would never stop looking for him if he didn't give up.

The blue of his skin was too bright, too obvious. This body shop had what he needed. Inside was a simple service robot, built on a Jameson body; even better. It's weak mind was a little more robust than the locks had been, but he needed this one functional. Giving it orders, he selected his paints, two shades of black and a grey the color of concrete under moonlight, after making sure none of their ingredients would increase his radar reflectivity. Without the thermoptics, he would need to do it the old fashioned way.

He stood there, limbs outspread, planning his next move as the blocky machine executed it's appointed tasks. Through the roof of this building, he'd look like an automobile to a fast thermal scan. He'd picked it for that reason. It would take the robot half an hour to finish, then a half hour after that for the paint to be dry enough for him to move. It would still be slightly sticky, but he'd manage. He had to assume the enemy was aware of his maximum speed. They'd be spread out over a much larger area in an hour, their resources stretched thinner in their search. Longer than that, and the more methodical search that was undoubtedly moving behind the front wave would catch up him, but he'd taken steps to slow that.

It would give him time to find where the voices were coming from. They were telling him to give himself up. They were higher pitched than his, except for the one. The stranger had a firm voice, like the Major, but deeper. They were telling him they understood what he was doing, it but he needed to stop. If they understood, why didn't they help him?

---

The comm came up for all of them shortly after the tilt-rotor left Headquarters. The building was free of Tachikoma, inside and out. "We have identified the Tachikoma body used to house the prototype." The brunette robot rattled of a string of alpha-numeric characters.

Batou turned his mind inward for a moment. It wasn't the body of his friend; it was the gamer.

Even his simulation seemed to blanch as Togusa's eyes widened slightly. "That Tachikoma knew about my family, it had seen pictures of my home."

The Chief's image jiggled slightly. "Togasa, call your wife. Tell her that your employer is going to send someone to get her and the children, and that they will be there at best possible speed. Give her my description and Proto's, tell her that she needs to go with us to a safe location."

Aramaki hadn't gone into action himself in decades, but he hadn't forgot the bitter taste of fear in his mouth. He shot a message to the bioandroid who was his aid, to go to the parking garage. The limo had still been intact when the garage was swept. The old man reached the armoury after Proto, who was pulling on armour and a tactical harness. Aramaki squirmed on his own armoured jacket, before stuffing magazines full of 20mm high velocity grenades into empty pockets. He pulled a pair of submachineguns and a grenade launcher off the racks. The last time Aramaki had tasted fear this strong had been just before his raiding unit had walked into an ambush. The tanks then had been bigger then, but slower. That time he'd had a company of men, not himself and one other.

Proto already had a brace light antitank weapons slung over his shoulder. He'd done the math as soon as the nature of the offender was known. The four hundred gram warhead of the compact weapons had an eighty percent probability of rendering the Tachikoma unable to fight. That was assuming that it wasn't as fast as the Tachikoma he'd first met, which had proven able to dodge the much faster shells of a tank. The artifical man silently and automatically accepted and checked the automatic weapon his leader offered him, lost in probabilities and permutations of being ambushed.

---

Clinging to the side of a building by wads of webbing, the devices were content to watch the numbers change. The cool night air didn't bother them, nor the breeze. They certainly were not aware enough to be bothered by the height. Just so long as the numbers continued to change.

Unchanging numbers would make the devices unhappy.

The numbers stopped changing at "0".

Windows shattered, sending a rain of debris towards the street below. A 12 meter peice of I-beam twisted, and sagged, before following the glass. The limpet mines weren't intended to destroy the building. They had been designed to blow holes in the hulls of warships; the structure was similar in material and thickness. Despite being skinned of it's glass, the building stood.

The real target was the electrical transfer station 37 stories below. Blades of tempered glass cut cables and stabbed insulators, damaging the delicate structures below. The tons of steel crushed and shorted across transformers and switches, blacking out several square kilometers.

The detonation was 25 clicks away from the garage where Tachikoma was being camouflaged. It was closer to the site of the failed ambush in alley, but in the opposite direction from it than his current location.

---

Boma was safety harnessed to the structure of the tiltrotor, his feet dangling over the side. Despite the thermal imaging system built into the glue gun, he couldn't see any traces of the wayward automaton. Just fires in the electrical equipment below, and a collection of emergency services personnel. "I've got nothing."

Saito was meditating on the data gathered by his weapon's optical sight and that from his hawkseye link. From the door opposite Boma, his weapon bobbed and weaved as if scenting the air. "If it's here, Major, it had upgrades we weren't told about."

In the link, Kusanagi shook her head. "And the local cops haven't been shot at."

"Is that important?"

"I think so." On the ground, Batou growled in annoyance. "It attacked those cops at the alley, risking it's chance to escape to hit what it might have seen as enemy reenforcement rather than running. There's been nothing here."

"So you are thinking this was a distraction?"

Ishikawa pressed his forehead against the frame of his visor, tiredly. "I'd bet money on it. The police just reported that something with four feet just jumped on the hood a patrol car. Shots fired; the officers aren't responding to thier cybercoms or the to the car's terminal."

---

Batou looked at the bodies. Just like the first pair, a double tap to the head of each, the entry points nearly joined into one wound. This time, the shots had been through a windshield. The safety rated glass was angled and curved to resists impacts from road debris as well for aerodynamics. Those properties made a shot through a windshield notoriously tricky at the best of times. Who ever did this was able to compensate for the defraction of light and the angle and thickness of the glass. The four dents over the engine compartment were as good a finger print.

The Major had finished talking with the local cops. She looked around, her vision straining. Security cameras were getting smaller every year. _There._ She walked to the side of the apartment building, eyes on the camera posed to watch the doorway. It should have been able to catch the shooting. Jacking her barrier into the dataport by the door, Motoko shifted her consciousness. She slipped through the security barrier with practiced ease. She hammered the password that protected the visual record with the contents of her personal dictionary. The information was a common format.

"Ishakawa, Togusa, we need to get an advisory out to the various police departments. Tell them that this Tachikoma is probably hunting the cops."

"You're sure on this, Major?"

"Nearly positive." She fired the short movie of the rogue Tachikoma landing on the hood of the car, leaping away before the last of the metal cartridge cases was done bouncing.

Togusa began calling his contacts and friends with the police force. Within minutes, the image of a blue multiped executing the two officers was to every on-duty or cyberbrain-equipped law enforcement officer in Japan.

The Major had missed the scratches on the access panel. The kind that a being without fingernails might leave while opening the panel. The errors in the hacked datafile wouldn't be found for another four hours.

---

Author's notes:  
Only unhappy bombs go off.

For those who might be interested, in my head the rogue Tachikoma uses Vic Mignogna's voice; he does the voice of Ed on the english language version of FMA. I know he doesn't say much in the story, but the rogue is an interesting character to have camping in my head.


	6. 5th Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, 5th Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by quiren

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

Crouching in the structure of an aerial, he was perfectly still but for his eye turrets. Tachikoma had ambushed three of the enemy's patrols in twenty minutes. They'd come looking for him, starting at the center of the three points.

He tried not to flinch, to move, when the voices broke through his barrier for a moment, lashing at him. They were telling he had to stop. The humans would destroy him if he continued. If he gave up, the pain could go away. He was malfunctioning. The humans could repair him. He didn't react, he didn't say anything to them. If he transmitted, the source of the voices would find him. The enemy would find him.

There, three hundred meters away, taking to the roof tops. Of course, they would hunt him on his terrain. Just the shimmer of thermoptics. If they hadn't moved across the front of that billboard, he might have missed them with his echo location gear turned off. They seemed to be looking at the roof top hanger he'd left open. That meant they were looking where he wanted them to: at the blue paint he'd sprayed on the skin of the commuter chopper. A can of it had been back at the garage, the enamel had matched his old coloration almost perfectly. He didn't know what he'd use it for when he stuffed it in his bag, but he knew he'd find something. He'd made sure that the decoy could only been seen from a narrow angle, one who's approaches could be seen from this perch.

---

"Just because it looks cold, doesn't mean that it is. There are plenty of ways to fool these sensors." The Major frowned at the display in front of her, absently scrapeing her lower lip with her teeth.

Batou scowled. That the two of them knew it made it almost positive that the Tachikoma knew. This was the first time in 16 hours that they'd seen the rogue, and they didn't know for sure if this was it or not. He hadn't told the rest of the team about it's programming, the Major's arguments were perfectly correct. It something out of a nightmare, where he was fighting himself. "I'll go first, give me ten seconds."

---

The first of the figures lept across the urban chasm. Tachikoma nodded his body slightly, this was exactly what he expected. He activated his communications array, squirting a fast signal to the circuitry he'd left tucked in behind the helicopter. He didn't wait to see the results of the ten kilogram satchel charge he'd put just inside the thick metal wall, behind a drum of fuel. It would wash the pad with burning aviation fuel and shrapnel at five times the speed of sound. He lept, firing a pair of 40mm's at the point where the enemy had jumped from. It was just inside the thousand meter range of the launcher; he wasn't even sure the enemy had been there.

The voices tried again. They were telling him it was Section 9, it had to be the Major and Mister Batou. Only they were this good. He had to stop. They were sending him pictures now, sensations of touch and scent. Memories of joy and other things beyond his experience. Strange sensations, strong, those of alien forms.

The voices had distracted him. The webbing missed on the first try. The second launcher spat, but it hadn't been as he'd planned. Tachikoma pendulumed through a window, rolling over and through a desk. He shouted at the voices in anger as he fought to get his feet under him.

---

"Mr. Aramaki, what's happening? My husband didn't say what was wrong, just to pack two days of clothes and to wait for you to get here." Togusa's wife, Sakiko, was nervous, but no more than she'd been at his trial a year ago.

"Ma'am, I'm here to take you and the children to safety." Aramaki had one of the SMGs slung under his coat. Proto was outside, at the side of the car. The synthetic man had seemed a bit frazzled. "Please, time is of the essence. We have reason to believe that someone has gained access to our personnel records. This is a protective measure, to ensure the safety of our dependents."

Sakiko spoke softly to her daughter. The little one looked excited, not understanding the reason for this night time excursion. Arameki smiled slightly- children find novelty in the oddest things. He took the suitcase, keeping his gun hand free. In an uncharacteristic act, he went out the door first.

Proto nodded, his short weapon hidden behind the armoured door of the car. He hadn't handled a gun since basic familiarization with Section 9's arsenal. He had done that only as part of his duties as Mr. Aramaki's aid. His designers said he wasn't supposed to be nervous.

Proto was of the opinion was that they had safe, sane, normal lives. What did they know?

---

"Warning: gyroscope malfunction. Warning: object approaching."

The Major swore. The object had to be either a building or the ground. She'd seen the firing signature from the tower just as she jumped. She had spun a line of webbing out to swing around and fire, but the shrapnel from the two grenades cut her line at the projector just as Batou's Uchikoma had disappeared in a fireball. Tumbling, she struggled to get the legs of the Uchikoma under it- rolling like this, she couldn't be sure of hitting anything with the other projector.

She landed with a crunch that was laced with the sound of tearing metal. Motoko shook her head- the force had been enough to make her teeth rattle. She elbowed the button to release the hatch. _Damnit._ She stabbed her fingers at the control panel, bracing herself just before the explosive bolts fired. With the pod now open, she tumbled free. The Uchikoma had hit the pavement nose first from about 20 stories up.

She reached in, pulling out her weapon and part of the bracket that held it. The fire was still dancing at the rooftop. Spotting a handhold on the side of one building, she jumped with all her strength, not wanting to think about what she'd find. Arms and legs, pushing and pulling, jumping, until she was on the roof top. Fires still danced, slowly devouring the plastic matrices that held the asphalt together. "Batou!"

The blond man's icon spring into life in her vision as she approached the smoking, charred remains of the tankita he was in. "Major, I'm stuck. This thing is trashed, I'm going to have to be cut out."

"Cover your head, and hold still." Gritting her teeth, Motoko raised her weapon. This would either work, or she'd owe Batou an apology. A burst pummeled each of the latches in quick succession as Batou shouted at her over the comm. She let the weapon fall onto it's sling as she drew her knife, driving the tip into the crack between the plates, twisting, turning, prying, doing all the things you shouldn't to a knife. The ceramic armour popped open as the thick titanium blade snapped.

Batou squirmed out. He'd been saying for months that he didn't fit as well in the Uchikoma. "Major, where's your ride."

"Down there." She surveyed the dying fires. "This looks like that trick you used once, back in Mexico."

"I know. I don't like it from this side." From below and the north came the stutter of automatic weapons fire. "That sounds like our runaway!"

---

Tachikoma jumped from the window. The shattered husk of one of the enemy machines was dug into the blacktop, while thermal imaging showed that the fires still burned at the top of the building. He rolled his eye turrets slightly in suprise- he'd actually cut the fire suppression system of the building. He must have used more explosives than were really needed. Despite that, he was functional, while the enemy's hunters were not.

The map said that two kilometers north of here was a rail yard. If he could bypass the security, he could hide in an outbound train. They were automated, and it avoided the IR system. Trains were equipped with both an onboard and remote, supervising AI, but he was confident he could send the supervisor false status reports while commandeering the train itself. Then he'd put himself into a cargo container with a forged manifest, marked as high priority cargo. He could be anywhere in the Home Islands in a matter of hours that way.

Several humans piled out of a building, wearing the uniforms of the one's who'd attacked him alley way. He fired, not more than two rounds each, as he dropped the bag. Crouching, he ejected the ammo tray for the 40mm. With the manipulator arm, he filled the tray as quickly as possible, retracting it lob a grenade through the door way before topping off. Tachikoma pulled out a smaller demolitions charge than he'd used on the rooftop, spinning briefly before letting it fly into a window of the second story barracks.

Crouching low the ground, he dashed north as fast as his wheels could take him. The bag hung in the crook of his gun arm as he poured 6mm ammo into the bin. The voices would not leave him alone. They were telling him about Section 9. Section 9 was his friends, his family, they wanted to help him. He blitzed through a chainlink gate, into a yard full of vehicles. The tracks lay just on the other side.

---

"I can't raise them. The Tachikoma must be jamming the cybercoms." Ishikawa pushed the visor up in disgust.

Togusa double checked to be sure the Mateba was loaded with heavy slugs, the kind originally designed to stop large, charging animals. Any stronger, and they would burst the legandarily strong recivier of the revolver like an apple used as a substitute baseball. "Can you locate the jamming?"

"The police impound, by the Mitsuhama railyard. The koubun there was just destroyed. "

Boma barked at the android at the controls of the tilt rotor, ordering it to hurry up. The machine shuddered, it's engines exceeding thier safety limits, as he flipped open the storage cases of the anti-tank launchers.

---

Batou's body was built for strength and stamina, Kusanagi's for speed and agility. Neither of them were well set up for sprinting long distances, but they could. Even though they were mechanical, they still needed air to make thier bodies work. But the comms allowed them to communicate clearly despite breathing hard.

In the distance, Batou saw a familiar silhouette crash a fence near the train yard. "Major, it's changed color. It's camouflaged."

"That's why we didn't spot it; it must have hacked that recorder. Damnit, it's smart."

"Wonder where it got that from?"

Motoko gave him an ugly look before activating her thermoptics.

---

Author's notes: Ghost in the Shell is about consciousness and it's evolution. I find Proto as intriguing as the Tachikoma, I wish he'd been better defined. You have an increasing degree of synthetic sentience, starting with Togusa, to Motoko and Batou. Proto would be the next step, parallel with what Kuze had in mind to use to evac the refugees. Then the Tachikoma, neither human of origion or of form, but still so very human. When one can not tell the difference between the heart of a human and the heart of a machine, is there one?

How did the rogue know where they woudl start looking for him? Simple- he's a professional, or at least he has the education of one (or two, or a bunch). Professionals all read the same books, they all study the same tactics and strategies. Thus, the most likely actions will predictable, with rough percentages of probability as to thier likeliness. It's like playing chess- there are only so many pieces on the board, each with a limited number of moves, the skill comes from calculating probable moves further and faster than the other guy can. Unfortunately, the universe is full of rank amatures who survive by luck. Those are the guys you want to afraid of! They do stupid stuff.

As I understand it, in Japan the _koubun_ police stations are very similiar to the sterotypical American firehouse in that they have sleeping and living space above the office area. Unmarried and rookie officers live there as part of thier benefits package, along with certain specialists during alerts. They are about the size of a precict house for NYPD, but much of the space that would have been used to for the holding "tank" and investigators' desks are used by the barracks. These facilities have anywhere from 50 to 500 officers assigned to them. Detectives, most administration, and all but a tiny number of temprorary holding and interrogation facilities are handled at a central location.

And as far as my research has shown, Togusa's wife is never given a name. So, I called her Sakiko, after Sakiko Tamagawa who provided her voice in the Japanese dialog.


	7. nth Iteration

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, _n_-th Iteration

by Ironraven  
edited by quiren

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

The voices were telling Tachikoma to stop, to give up. They were telling him he was malfunctioning, that Mister Batou and the Major would help him. Make him better.

Two shapes flickered in his vision, one smaller than other, faster. The Major and Mister Batou. Why would they be camouflaged like that if they wanted to help him? He fired, short, contained bursts directed through the windows of the empty cars in the lot. The 6mm slugs chewed through glass, plastic and metal.

The shimmers fired at him, his sensors identifying the weapons instantly. It was Section 9. He continued firing, not trying to hit them, just scare them. He was afraid. He didn't want to hurt them, they weren't the enemy, the enemy was the green mulitpeds and the humans in the uniforms. He didn't want them to hurt him. The voices had told him about them. He didn't want to die. He had to live, he had to avenge the others. The insurrectionists had to die. That couldn't happen if he was terminated. Projections showed the same result if he gave himself up. But if he injured members of Section 9, the voices would attack him.

The shimmers became solid, the smaller one closer to him. The Major. The woman with the purple hair from the lab from so long ago. The others were telling him to that the Major could be trusted, she wanted to help. Mr Batou was further back, his weapon aimed at him. The others had told him that he cared for the Tachikoma more than any human, even the Major. He didn't want to be destroyed. These two humans almost _were_ Section 9. Memories of watching them, some of them seemingly from within from one or the other or both. These were his allies, his friends. These humans were part of why he hurt.

He couldn't let them get close enough to touch him. He knew what could happen if they were able to board him. He tried to target each of them, but the voices screamed with such force he couldn't draw a bead. It was as if his sensors were vibrating from the electronic noise. He couldn't fire at them, not directly. He switched the targeting routine to the grenade launcher. There was a tanker truck among the vehicles in the lot. He read the placard. The pressure gauge on the side indicated that the tank was full. Tachikoma fired, striking the diamond that warned of explosive gases within. The grenade's blast was comparatively small compared to the tanker's contents off as the heat and force of the shaped charge tore through the contents.

A piece of thick metal scythed through the Major's legs, cutting through them like a scythe blade, as the shock wave of the explosion grabbed her, throwing her down like a broken doll. The suddenness overloaded her senses, the chill arms of blackness surrounding her instantly. The force of the explosion tossed smaller vehicles aside. One of those, a small car, had landed behind Batou, and rolled onto him, trapping him there. He could hear the pop and crack of dieing circuitry as the fuel cell's tank hissed out through fractures. Grunting, he tried to reach for his weapon, but it was far out of his reach.

Tachikoma clutched at his audio sensors; the voices. The voices were screaming in horror. This was ultimate betrayal. The pain hammered him from within, a torture greater than anything that had happened at the lab. The voices attacked, pounding ruthlessly at his conscious mind. He looked at Mister Batou and the Major, both injured. By his actions. The voices were too loud, he couldn't think, couldn't move.

Batou pushed down against the pavement, his fingers digging into the heat softened material, the psuedoflesh tearing under the strain. He turned off his pain receptors as he felt the heat raising. The fire from the tanker and the other burning vehicles had spread. He found one leg wouldn't respond, pinned down. He kicked against the car with his one responding leg, swearing. This was the time to act, the Tachikoma was having some kind of malfunction. He bellowed in frustration. He never get this chance again..

The voices softened as they spoke to Tachikoma. They hadn't died, they'd changed. They could make it better, he had to leave the humans or they would destroy him. He was a member of Section 9, a counter-terrorist unit. The voices like his knew what that meant, they'd shown him. He had try to kill people who cared about him, he'd tried to kill his teammates, his leaders. He'd attacked Section 9. He'd betrayed himself. He had killed the uninvolved. He had become a terrorist. The stranger's voice seemed to know about that. He had to stop. He couldn't continue, not now. There was no point, there was no reason for this. They would help the humans, they would destroy him if he didn't stop. They didn't want to destroy him. They wanted him to be with them. They wanted him to be better, for the pain to end. He had to stop. He had to redeem himself. They could help. He had to join them, it was the only way to return to honor. They told him what he had to do.

From somewhere deep in Tachikoma's mind came a whimper. He could see it. A tortured scream cut through the signals he was sending, existence and pain interchangeable.

Tachikoma stoped clutching at his sensors. Moving slowly, every servo straining against an unknown resistance, he leaned down, picking the Major up in his arms, gently. The woman was so small, so fragile for one so strong. He wheeled his way to were Batou was pinned under the car, setting Matoko down. "I'm sorry, Mister Batou."

At the sound of the voice, deeper and seemingly older than that of the other Tachikoma, Batou looked up. _Shit._ He fought harder, trying to get his arm between his body and the car, scrabbling for his holster as the grey and black figure silently came closer. He could feel the distant rumble of passing trains through the concrete as the talons reached for him. He knew this is how it was going to end. The weight of the car was suddenly off him. He threw himself free, twisting away from the the rogue AI. Rolling over, he drew his sidearm, knowing that even with tungsten cored slugs it was too little to stop the machine.

Tachikoma set the car down, slowly. The voices whispered to him, a data carress. They loved him. They loved and respected Mister Batou. They loved and worshiped the Major. They were afraid for him. They could protect him. "I'm sorry, Mister Batou. Please, take care of the Major. Tell her I didn't mean to hurt her. I was scared, confused." Tachikoma turned, rolling towards the edge of the fence. "Help should be here soon."

"STOP!" Batou fired one shot at the eye turret mounted on the left of the crew pod. Sparks and a howl signaled the ricochet. He screamed to be heard over the continued noise and gunshots. "STOP DAMNIT!"

Tachikoma turned to face him, mechanical arms outspread. Each time the bullets had stuck, they knocked away the camouflage in a palm-sized patch, baring blue underneath. The barrel to the 40mm looked big enough to crawl into. Batou tensed, the slide of his pistol locked back on an empty magazine. He knew he wouldn't be able to reload before he died.. Tachikoma tensed, crouching. His voice was softer, quieter. "I'm sorry, Mister Batou, I need to go do something with the others."

With a leap, the last of his kind cleared the safety fence. The voices called to him, welcoming him. He could feel them, see them. His sisters, younger and at peace; the human stranger, a tall man with a stern but caring face and pale hair. They wanted him to join them, they would forgive him. They would make the pain stop, they would make him better. Tachikoma was barely of his legs bending to take the landing. He didn't see the lights, that world no longer was his.

There was a loud, shattering crash, then the scream of steel on steel as the AIs controlling the freight train tried to come to a stop after the impact.

Dropping his gun, Batou turned to look at the Major, growling at his malfunctioning legs. Crawling to her on his elbows, he dragged his battered and smoking form to her side. He brushed the hair from her face, tenderly. Her eyes opened at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, her hand coming up to grab the source of the sensation.

They both heard it in their comms. Ishikawa was shouting. But there was another sound, like voices, faint, spectral, through the link.

"It's ok, it's over. I've got you."

---


	8. answers

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex  
Memory Failure- ABERRATION, answers

by Ironraven  
edited by quiren

Section 9 and it's operatives aren't mine.

---

Having been alerted to which entrance they'd be using by Proto, Togusa's heart was pounding. He could only remember his feet hitting steps about two dozen times as he'd dashed down the stairs from the tenth floor. He didn't care if strangers were stared at him, gasping. Commandos weren't very common in hospitals.

His family barely made it through the door before he hugged them enthusiastically. He wasn't able to speak yet, if he'd tried he'd have only babbled. This was the first time they'd been in danger from his job, even if it had been a false alarm. There was no evidence that the Tachikoma had even received that memory, but the risks. If they'd been attacked...

Arakaki, with Proto in tow, eased around the tiny celebration, silently. Ishikawa had followed his teammate down at a more rational pace, and was awaiting the Chief by the elevators. "Boma, Pazu and Saito are still combing the area with the local cops. They've found most of it, there is no way the Tachikoma could have survived the impact."

"How did they stop it? I can't see it having simply been run over by accident."

"Chief, they didn't. The Major was offline, trying to get her systems under control. With the jamming that the Tachikoma was putting out, I can't see how she could have hacked it without a direct link even if she was awake." Ishikawa shook his head, bewildered. "Batou shot at it, but I took a fast glance at his memories- none of his shots missed, but none of them penetrated. The Tachikoma was acting strangely before then, maybe it malfunctioned."

Proto tapped his fingers together, thinking. "Then there are three possibilities. It really was an error in judgment, an accident. It had already been hacked, but by whom and when? Or, the Tachikoma committed suicide."

Aramaki shook his head. "Thirty-seven police officers killed or seriously injured. The fifteen at Kenbishi. Two of our people needing new bodies. A squad of Uchikoma destroyed. Any number of other victims that haven't been found yet. Bombings, fires, blackouts. And no answers." He reached out for the button that would summon the elevator. "You'll not take offense, Proto, when I say that artificial intelligences need to watched more closely. I'm not sure we can manage another of these rampages"

"I am, sir." The bioandroid's head bobbed in the slightest possible nod. "We would have been able to stop it. "

Ishikawa nodded slowly, reluctantly as the door opened. "'Thy own worst enemy is thy self.' Chief, do you remember what I told you the last words any of the old Tachikoma said to me were?"

---

Hitched to mindless machines, Motoko let the slightest hint of a smile slip into her mind, if not onto her face, when her roommate's gurney was wheeled in. "Hey."

Batou stared up at the ceiling tiles as the medics confirmed the monitoring devices attached to him working properly. He really didn't hear them as they reminded him that cybercom use within the the hospital might interfere with his care or that of others.

The Major watched him silently for a long minute after the others left. "You look like hell." He remained silent. Motoko pulled the pillow out from behind her head with her one good arm, throwing it at her teammate. Despite the playful nature of the act, she was concerned. She couldn't reach him to poke him, and had nothing else to throw. "Batou!"

"The Tachikoma didn't have to let us live. It could have escaped." Batou's lips barely moved as he continued to study the featureless white panels. "It could have left us or killed us, and gotten away." One of the tiles was slightly less white than the others. "What would you have done, in his place?"

Motoko looked down at where her toes should have been. "Killed us, hijacked the AI of a train, and disappeared. Past that, who knows. We never did know why it attacked the police." Her working thumb stroked her lips, softly. "Unless I had a reason to not kill us."

"Police have uniforms, armour, radios and guns. It probably thought they were the enemy." The Tachikoma's last words keept looping in the back of his mind. One thought had caused Batou to lay awake for hours, every night, since end of the Dejima crisis. "It said it had to go someplace, 'with the others'. Do you think they survived?"

Motoko closed her eyes. "We've never found their data store. Maybe they hacked him." She sighed, sadly. "If they are out there, they'd have contacted us. They've had enough time to call home."

That one word tightened his throat like a noose. Batou turned his head, his trademark ponytail burned away. He hadn't noticed the missing appendage yet. _Home. Homes have families._ His voice was pained. "What was he?"

---

Author's notes:  
You can't jam the soul.


End file.
